A View from Elsewhere....

After one of my last little rants, I received the most extraordinary email from my cousin.  As she pointed out, I have previously admitted that I don't "do" family.  Like everyone, we all have our moments when we think we're different and I may well suffer from that a lot.  But Vicky decided to tell me my own story from her point of view.  And that's when you realise that floating through life in your own world is not actually what goes on....you create an impact on the people around you, even if you don't realise it.

Vicky has given me carte blanche with her story, and I'd like to share some it with you:

Honey, you keep using the word “normal” in reference to yourself in your blogs, as merely a spectator in your life.  I can very definitely say that the life you have led has not in any way been normal, and it seems to get more and more extraordinary as the years pass.  Everyone has a different definition of normal and whether you want them or not I’m going to give you my observations of your life thus far!

To start with I want to say I have no doubt you will have much, much longer than the time scale you’ve been given and I’m sure you’ll forgive me my faith in God on this particular subject because I’ve had every Christian I’m close to and some I’m not that I’m praying for you.  

When we were children our families holidayed together, we shared the same Grandparents on both sides.  I had a crush Sarah’s little brother and when we visited, Sarah would curl my hair - Alan remained unimpressed when I delighted in showing him – and so Sarah let me help her make cheesecake and cushions instead!

When I was about 11/12 my cousin was making her first tentative steps on the rungs of her career moved to London to with our grandparents.  I spent weekends there, I thoroughly enjoyed her doing my hair, and I had a fascination with the funky shampoos I wasn’t allowed to use.  I vowed to own several Bourjois eye shadows and blushers after seeing them in her room and the nail varnish pen, why did that never catch on? 

This was life before the meningitis and I loved it and looked up to my beautiful fashionable cousin who always seemed to have time for me.  I remember being grief stricken when I found out how ill she was.  The story circulated around the family that she’d been at a work do, she started being sick in the night, my Nan found her slumped in the toilet and put her back to bed assuming she was hung over, at this point she could still walk.  The doctor was called, he diagnosed a sickness bug.  The second time my Nan found her in the toilet she was unconscious, the doctor came again and said “don’t wait for an ambulance get her straight to a hospital”.  By this point Sarah was covered in purple blotches and completely unconscious. 

My grandparents would probably have managed to get her in the car but why struggle when my Dad was there - he was staying there at the time.  He carried her to the car and held her all the way to the hospital.  The diagnosis was  meningococcal septicaemia, the worst type.  I knew the symptoms long before the NHS campaign appeared in the media, anyone who’d been in close contact with Sarah had to have strong antibiotics at the time.  This was the point in my life when I lost my cousin Sarah, she was my friend and I looked up to her but she had to concentrate on rebuilding her life and she didn’t return to live at Nan and Granddads.

Then Sarah, having learned to walk again, gained both your driving licence and motorcycle license, you decided to get on with life.  Your love life and career got a bit complicated (to me anyway), but I was well on my own way to a love life by then.  You almost chose the marriage path, but the career won out, and you moved to Chelsea to concentrate on your job.

Recent years are a bit clearer; our Granddad died, and by this point I was just becoming single after a casual romance and I think you were too.  A year later I met Jonathan and got engaged and I chose you to be my bridesmaid. 

You moved on to another senior job - I’d always pictured myself as a business woman so I watched and vicariously lived it through you.  You put yourself through Management School and graduated with a Masters.  Nan kept me up to date and I was proud of your achievements. Unfortunately, your marriage didn't survive, you battled depression and I was getting fat and heading towards depression myself.  

Then you and Wilson found each other.  He moved south, Darcey appeared, you settled in Newbury and your postponed your wedding in favour of buying your family home.

Then I heard about your tumour, I should have called but email, facebook and text are definitely easier when you suffer badly from foot in mouth syndrome, but I’m not immune even using the written word as you’ve already discovered.

Anyway the point to this email is to make it absolutely clear that you are not normal, you’ve excelled in the a world not renowned for its acceptance of women, you’ve tackled meningitis at a time in your life when you should be flaunting your looks and youth not rebuilding your life with a body that differs to the one you were born with.  You’ve married and divorced with grace, you’ve had depression and beaten it. You’ve bought your dream home, continued with the career you love.  You’re furiously loyal to the people you’ve chosen to keep close to you and none of it is in any way “normal”.

Extraordinary is a better word for your adventures so far and Extraordinary will be the best word for your future life too.